The red lights on the monitor are flashing.
Oh no. Please stop.
I get up from my desk and walk over to turn up the volume.
Maybe one of the boys just coughed.
Nope. The soft, pitiful cry of a 12 month old is piped through. Not a loud cry. Not a very awake cry.
Maybe he'll go back to sleep.
I sit down and go back to reading my article, but with divided attention. Half of me wants to enjoy my time, but the other half is listening with baited breath to the monitor. To that soft cry.
Please go back to sleep. Just roll over and stop crying. Please.
But he doesn't roll over, and I know why. He's almost certainly standing up.
Aggravated at this most unceremonious interruption of my night, I get up. He's not going back to sleep.
When I open the door to the boys' bedroom, my suspicions are confirmed: there, standing in the corner of his crib is Silas, crying, looking a little confused at the sudden light.
And my heart melts.
Oh yeah, he's kind of a sickie.
Pulling him into my arms, I cradle him on the way to my bedroom. This night waking is not terribly out of the ordinary these days, and we both know what to do. We sit down, he snuggles in, and I nurse him.
He's just a baby. Just a little guy.
But not for long. His birthday is in two days.
He needs me. I'm his mom.
I love to watch him nurse. One hand absently fingers the hem on my shirt, the other pulled in under his chin. He's completely at home. He's completely comfortable. And so I stare at him for what, in reality, is a very short amount of time. 10 minutes, maybe.
And then I put him back in bed. He rolls over, sticks his bottom in the air, and I cover him with his blankie.
* * *
Why does my heart sink when I hear him start to cry?
I feel like I have to constantly remind myself that these moments are fleeting. They're here...and tomorrow they'll be gone. I won't be nursing a baby before long. And although that's the thing half of me is living for (some freedom after these long years of raising young children), I know I'll miss it when it's gone.
* * *
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Hold on tight Sarah. I miss those days so much! :(
ReplyDeleteI hear that from everyone. I've spent half my life wishing it away and I am determined not to do that while my kiddos are so little. It really is so special that they want to (and are still small enough!) to snuggle up. Thanks for reading :)
DeleteI think I am going to cry...My brother, who is a lot younger than me, just left for the Navy. I have raised him since he was 10 and remember all those days. Even though I am not his mom it is still sad. You wish away the years and then you beg for them back. I guess that's they way it's suppose to be though.
ReplyDeleteIt's so true. Even before motherhood, when I was in my 20's, all I wanted was to get married and have a family. And I enjoyed my 20's, don't get me wrong, but I spent waaaay too much time wondering when I would just get married already. I don't want to do that anymore.
DeleteSarah, I love your blog! This post totally hit home with me. I'm trying to cherish every little moment I can because they grow so fast!
ReplyDeleteKaty, so good to hear from you! And thank you! I'd really like this blog to be about more than some cool learning activities and art projects, so it's encouraging to know that I'm moving in the right direction. I hope you guys are doing well - I've heard that you've got a lot going on right now ;)
DeleteI really appreciated this post. I'm glad I'm not the only one who's heart sinks a little when the monitor lights up. I'm really trying to be present in each moment so that I can enjoy Asher's babyhood, crying and all :)
ReplyDeleteIt's true, Lindsay. I'm constantly reminding myself to slow down and enjoy this time. Which is important for most of us to remember because I think most parents struggle with wishing away the years to some extent. Glad you took the time to read it!
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